


Late Night Snack

by Anonymous



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Established Relationship, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Modern AU, Plot what plot porn without plot, Spit As Lube, Virgil is friend shaped, Virgil is more experienced than Roman, baby oil as lube, because I said so, chubby! Virgil, past friends with benefits relationship, sassy! Virgil, they're not anymore, wet and messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22699918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Tossing and turning, Roman was unable to stay comfortable. He twisted his body to face the other side of his large bed, arm reaching out to drape over his lover— only to be met with empty sheets and lingering warmth that said lover's body left behind.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Kudos: 103
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	Late Night Snack

* * *

Tossing and turning, Roman was unable to stay comfortable. He twisted his body to face the other side of his large bed, arm reaching out to drape over his lover— only to be met with empty sheets and lingering warmth that said lover's body left behind. 

Roman abruptly sat up, startled and now fully awake. He blearlily blinked around the room, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness; he was alone. 

His blood felt cold and his heart worked in overdrive; the fear he felt almost physically pained him. Unable to think rationally, he bit back a cry. Throwing himself back on the now-too-big, too-empty bed, he covered his mouth with his hand. Not that it mattered; there was no one else in the apartment to hear him, after all. 

Roman stuttered a breath, blinking back tears and fighting back whimpers as he tried to think rationally. There could have been a legitimate, reasonable explanation for Virgil's absence. A good reason for him to leave with no prompting, warning, or heads up. Roman couldn't think of any. 

It was a Friday— shooting a glance at his alarm clock, it was actually Saturday— Virgil didn't have work. It wasn't like Virgil's boss would call him in, either. 

(It couldn't have been a family emergency, Virgil having cut ties with them when he was twenty-two.)

And even then, Roman would think that Virgil would shake him awake and let him know— or leave a note. Roman reached for his phone on his nightstand, clicking it on and checking for any messages. There was a confirmation from his grandmother regarding Thanksgiving plans, a string of texts from his brother, and an image of a dog wearing glasses, from Patton. None from Virgil. 

He dropped his phone back down with a _thunk_. Dragging his hands down his face, he let his tears slip free. What had he done wrong? What was Virgil's motive to just up and leave? Roman's chest shook with his sobs, heavy and ugly as fat tears slid down his cheeks and got lost in his hairline. 

To think, Virgil actually wanted to be with him— to be with _Roman_ of all people. Virgil was so wonderful, he could have anyone he desired— why would _Roman_ be the one? 

It was foolish of Roman to think Virgil meant what he said: that Virgil, too, yearned for a serious relationship with Roman— to put a label on what they had, and stop with the fooling around— the 'meaningless' sex the two would indulge in. 

Roman should have known better than to think Virgil wanted him. He didn't even blame Virgil, not as much as he should have. If Virgil wanted to stay, he could, and if he wanted to leave Roman's flat— after what Roman _thought_ was them officially crossing a line— _the line_ — and becoming what he hoped was a couple, then who was to stop him? 

It was fine, he should've known better than to think Virgil would have really meant what he said earlier— that he actually shared the same longing for a relationship between the two of them. It was a ploy and he fell for it. He _fucking fell for it._

But he wasn't mad. He wasn't. It was solely his own fault; he told Virgil he could do whatever he wanted with his heart, and meant it. So Virgil wanted to play with it again, that was fine. 

He had the fresh memory of Virgil being pliant and loving in his embrace. He was able to finally feel his plush lips and hear those soft moans. He was given access to see under his layers; to see things no one else had— it wasn't a surprise that Roman didn't get to keep it.

Gripping his comforter tightly, Roman's lip wobbled with his snivels. He felt so alone, so cold and alone in his big, empty bed. He went to bury his face in his pillow, only a soft _thud_ interrupted his woeful cries.

He sniffled, breath hiccuping as he tried to look through his tears. It was only then did he notice the soft light that shone through the cracks of his bedroom door. 

Quickly, Roman threw off his covers and padded his way over to the door— grabbing a pair of loose sweatpants and pulling them on. He paused, gripping the cold doorknob and listening for more movement. Another thud and he opened the door. 

As he stepped out in the hallway and followed the source of light, leading him to the kitchen. Poking his head into the room, all of his previous doubts and worries crashed around him— leaving him feeling utterly ridiculous.

Standing right across from him, his back turned, was Virgil, in absolutely nothing— bare ass naked— save for one of Roman's white button ups (turning Roman's face a vibrant red) standing on a chair, up on his tiptoes trying to reach something out of the cupboard.

Roman let out a long, shaky sigh of relief, his heart clenching in guilt. Virgil was right there— and Roman felt downright pathetic for thinking so lowly of him. Virgil was giving them a chance and Roman repaid him with doubt. By being so insecure, Roman thought Virgil would just leave after what happened. 

He shook his head and brought his attention back to the man in front of him— who was too preoccupied in finding a midnight snack to notice him. 

Roman cleared his throat, regretting it right after Virgil lost his balance and almost fell.

“What are you doing?” Roman asked instead of apologizing. 

Virgil spun around on the chair, his arms full of different packages of junk food, his mouth stuffed with (what looked like) mini donuts. 

A fond smile tugged at Roman's lips. He silently cursed himself for his lack of trust. What did he do to ever deserve someone so perfect?

Instead of voicing an answer right away, Virgil slowly made his way down off the chair; taking his dear, sweet time walking to Roman. He stopped in front of him, close enough that Roman could reach out and pull him into an embrace— but he didn't. Virgil finished chewing the snack then swallowed, and if Roman followed the rise and fall of his adams apple, sue him. 

Once able to speak, Virgil shoved all of his obtained junk into the other's arms, “Hold this.”

Roman did as told, albeit he was confused. He didn't bother questioning Virgil— not when he reached up, gently cradling his face in his soft hands. Roman let out a shaky breath as Virgil grazed his thumb across his stubble. Virgil pulled him down while he got up on his toes— pressing their lips into a messy, mushed kiss. 

Their noses were squished against together, almost uncomfortably so— Roman headed it no mind, too focused on the feeling of Virgil mouthing against his lips. Virgil just felt so _soft._ He always felt so soft and warm, like a big toasty marshmallow.

Roman was able to confirm Virgil was eating mini donuts, because he could taste the powdered sugar. Tilting his head, Roman slotted their mouths firmly, chasing more of the promised sweetness. More of the soft, warm ambrosian that was Virgil. Roman just wanted to wrap his arms around him and pull him close— and couldn't, not with his hold on all of Virgil's snacks.

Virgil pulled away, gently tugging Roman's bottom lip between his teeth as he went.

Roman sighed dreamily, “You didn't answer my question.”

Virgil brushed his fingers through Roman's hair, pushing his auburn locks from his forehead. “I was hungry, obviously.” he said before pressing a peck to Roman's chin.

Roman nodded his head to the bundle in his arms, “Hungry enough to eat all this?” 

Virgil shrugged, “I deserve it,” he snagged a bag of chips off the pile, “my ass and back hurt.”

Roman flushed further, the red spreading to his roots. How Virgil was able to speak about such filthy things— while being so disquieted with nearly everything else— was beyond Roman.

His brows pinched in mild concern, regarding Virgil apologetically, "I'm sorry if I was too rough. . .”

Virgil snickered as he bit into a chip, “You weren't." he said while chewing, "And besides—” he rubbed Roman's bicep between his fingers, goosebumps rising in turn— “I wouldn't mind if you were rough.”

Roman swallowed hard. Virgil had that little quirk of his lips that just screamed trouble. After eyeing him thoroughly, Roman found that he rather liked seeing Virgil in his clothes; though he would much rather prefer to slowly peel the shirt off of him— cover his neck and shoulders with kisses and watch as the article of clothing would fall to a heap on the floor— long forgotten.

Before he knew it, Roman's mouth was moving on its own— in a low, husky murmur he imposed, "Then why don't you be a good boy and bend over for me.”

The reaction was instantaneous: Virgil's doe eyes went wide, his eyebrows shot up and his lips parted in surprise. In turn, Roman felt immediate regret for his words— leave it to him to take a joke too far. He was about to scramble out an apology when Virgil beat him to it.

"Okay." 

Roman held his breath, watching as Virgil sauntered to the kitchen table, where he proceeded to toss his bag of chips to the side and bend over— his milky white ass on display. Roman shamelessly stared at the offering; it truly was a sight to behold. Round and plump, the globes known to fit perfectly in Roman's grasp. 

His stomach was twisted into familiar knots, though much more bearable than before. He was starting to get used to them, now that he expected them to come whenever he and Virgil got intimate. It was unrelenting, sometimes leaving him dizzy— but that went with the Virgil experience. Roman loved it.

He rushed to drop off all of the snacks onto the counter, all but running over to Virgil— earning an amused snort. And if Virgil wasn't ravishing enough: he slowly eased himself further against the table, his flabby stomach pressed against the hard surface so he could arch his back better. 

Virgil waved his hips in invitation.

Roman licked his lips and took another step closer, his hands wavered in front of the mounds of flesh— eager to grab ahold and just rub his fingers over the expanse of skin, like he had done just a few hours ago. But his butterflies kept him grounded, still a bit intimidated. Virgil was everything he could have ever dreamed of; he couldn't help the aching feeling that this wasn't really happening. That he would wake up in his bed, dehydrated from crying too much, exasperated from Virgil leaving. 

This was real, he told himself. Virgil felt the same way he did, and wanted this just as much as he did— whether he believed it or not. It wasn't like Virgil to fake his feelings, he had never lied to Roman. The way they held each other, right after they admitted their feelings. Their first kiss, then the many more they shared. The passionate sex they had— that couldn't have been a lie, Virgil wasn't cunning or evil enough to fake all that. 

He knew Virgil was a big softy. His little marshmallow. 

Virgil shifted, his patience running thin. He propped up his weight on his elbows and looked over his shoulder, “This is what you want, right?”

It was; Roman always wanted Virgil, not always in a sexual manner, of course— though in that moment he certainly did. Virgil's pale skin was positively glowing in the low lighting; and the shirt he was wearing made him look too sexy for his own good. And as if throwing gasoline on a raging fire, Virgil grasped his right cheek and pulled it to the side, giving view of his puckered, abused hole.

Roman nearly drooled, taking a shaky step closer, hands grasping the edge of the table on either side of Virgil— effectively caging him in.

"You know I do."

Virgil hummed, a pretty flush spreading down his neck. He played it off by slipping a finger inside himself, “You could help me, you know, instead of staring.”

Not needing to be told twice, Roman practically dove over Virgil— shooing his hand away before plunging his own longer, thicker fingers in. 

Virgil gasped, his legs beginning to shake. 

It was hot inside, like it always was. And was wet and slippery— almost slimy— from their excessive amount of baby oil they used as lube. His fingers slid in and out with ease, the sound sloppy and obscene. 

But he didn't give in to the strong urge of throwing away all decency, and just pound into Virgil until he was a screaming cum filled mess. Because he was a gentleman, or at least tried to be one.

Roman leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lover's clothed back, “You don't need anymore, do you?” he asked— referring to lube— to be sure, more than willing to run into his room to grab the bottle. But it was most likely not needed, the hole still prepped and wet from earlier.

Virgil rocked his hips back, pushing the digits further in. “Just stretch me a bit.” he requested breathily. 

Always intending to please, Roman did as asked, spreading his fingers apart and loosening Virgil's ring. He aimed to find Virgil's prostate, curling his pointer and middle finger, massaging the walls in easy strokes— hoping to come across the bundle of nerves, to no avail. 

Virgil quickly caught on to his trial and error, and at that, he chuckled, “You keep curling them up." he explained, "I'm bent over on my stomach, you should be curling them down.”

Roman let out a long, "Ohh." before doing as instructed. He was pleased by the outcome, reveling in the jolt and hitched whine it caused.

He let out a chuckle, leaning down to nuzzle against the nape of Virgil's neck. “Right here?” he asked, dragging the pads of his fingers against the sensitive lump. 

Virgil jerked under him, not getting far as Roman kept a firm hold on his hip.

“Yeah,” Virgil breathed, “right there.” he rested his head against his folded arms, spreading his legs a little wider.

Roman took his time thrusting his fingers in and out of the furled hole, every now and then he would drag his touch across Virgil's prostate— eating up the pretty whimpers he would make. Slipping a third digit in when he thought was the right time, he scissored them apart, tugging against Virgil's ring— the furrowed muscle giving minimal resistance.

“This is sweet and all,” Virgil said haughtily, despite his voice hitching with barely-supressed whines, “but you can fuck me now.”

Roman rolled his eyes, pulling his fingers free and tugging his sweats down. "I really wish you would call it something nicer than that." he said, giving his cock a few tugs. 

Virgil snorted, “What am I supposed to call it?” 

Roman shrugged, even though he knew Virgil couldn't see it, “I don't know,” he sighed, “something nicer? We're together now and. . .” he bit his lip.

“And. . .?” Virgil pressed quietly, giving way to his own nervousness.

“I just. . .” Roman sighed again, leaning down and planting a kiss to Virgil's pudgy shoulder, “I want it to be more _meaningful_ from now on. This is us, together. We're. . .joining our bodies to become one— our souls touching and embracing in our shared want."

Virgil snorted before falling into a fit of audacious laughter. "You're such a dork." he wheezed, "Oh my god, that's—" he broke off into more giggles. 

"Hush." Roman chastised, giving Virgil's rear a light smack (effectively silencing him after letting out a short yelp), "I'm being serious."

"Okay, okay." Virgil relented, "I'm sorry." 

Roman paused, waiting a beat before carrying on, "I just want our sex to be. . .sincere."

Virgil shuffled in place, tone soft and vulnerable, "It is."

"I know. . ." Roman said, "I mean. . .I don't want it to feel like we have to hide anything anymore. Because we're _together_ , now. And we _both_ want this— we both want us." 

Roman licked his lips, eyes sweeping down the form below him, "I like being able to see you like this,” he said, sliding his hand under his button-up and pressing his palm against the curve of Virgil's back, "vulnerable— well, not vulnerable— trusting. Trusting is a better word.”

Virgil remained silent. 

Roman went on, “It makes me feel special. . .knowing that out of everyone you picked me. That I get to be the one to have you—” he hiked the shirt up and pressed kisses onto Virgil's heated skin— “like this. So intimately.” he breathed, kissing Virgil again— lingering, fast, erratic pulse on his lips. 

Roman couldn't tell if Virgil's racing heart was from arousal, or from Roman's admittance. Roman spoke truthfully— he hoped Virgil knew how blessed Roman felt to be able to call him his own.

Virgil quickly grew impatient, snapping his hips back into him, “Are— are you going to do this or what?”

Roman could have died happily right then and there, Virgil's wavering voice going to be the death of him. 

“Hold still.” he instructed not unkindly, stroking his dry length in slow flicks of his wrist.

Virgil complied, raising his hips, staying like that in waiting.

Roman took a moment to spit in his hand, spreading the saliva down his shaft, a sore attempt to palliate any pain. Holding his prick by the base, he held Virgil’s cheek to the side with his thumb— then ever so carefully, pressed his tip against Virgil’s entrance. With one small, sharp nudge of his hips, the head of his cock popped through with minimal effort. Virgil shuddered at the intrusion, a shiver that traveled down his spine— that Roman could feel against his fingers as he held Virgil's waist. Roman braced himself, digging into Virgil's ample sides as he sheathed himself into his scorching heat, inchmeal. He couldn't help but grunt at the feeling of Virgil's velvet walls clinging to him— the searing tightness of Virgil's ring clamped down on his shaft. Fully encased inside, Virgil's plump ass kissing Roman's pelvis— the two adjourned their task for an instant. Maybe it was to let Virgil adjust to the girth of his hard prick; or maybe it was for his own sake— Virgil's channel effectively leaving his mind numbing, bubbling— an incoherent jumble of nothing but Virgil. It was simply Virgil. Virgil; Virgil; Virgil; _Virgil; Virgil_! it wasn't until the man under him let out a supplicant moan did he register he was voicing his thoughts aloud.

Virgil squirmed below him, “Roman.” he whined, needy and dolorous as he reached a hand out behind himself.

Reaching forward, the back of Virgil's hand fitting snugly against Roman's palm. He interlocked their fingers tenderly, placing a kiss to Virgil's knuckles before resting their joined hands on the tabletop. 

With Virgil's body blanketed with his own, back to chest, Roman encircled an arm around him, holding him close. Slowly but surely, he pulled himself out— a long slow drag, stopping only when his tip remained inside.

Virgil hummed, a low gravelly sound from the back of his throat. His hold on Roman's hand was firm, refusing to let go (not that Roman wanted to).

Roman snapped his hips forward— hard prick impaling back inside Virgil in one swift move.

Virgil's forehead made an audible smack against the table, a loud mewl leaving him, “ _Fuck_ , Roman!” he cried, voice quivering, “Roman, please.”

Roman groaned. Virgil's legs were trembling— thighs quivering up against Roman, unintentionally tantalizing. Roman's cock was _throbbing_ inside of Virgil— in desperate need of release— he knew Virgil could feel it too.

“Roman,” Virgil tried again, “ _Roman._ ” he bucked forward, then back again, trying to fuck himself on Roman's cock.

Roman growled, cutting Virgil's relief short by holding him tighter— leaving no wiggle room.

“Come _on_ , Roman, just fuck me!” Virgil nearly shouted.

“Sweetheart,” Roman murmured, gently releasing Virgil from his clutch. Languidly, he traced his hand up Virgil's back, ghost-like touches that left shivers in their wake. Virgil still held Roman's other hand, his grasp unyielding. 

Roman leaned down to Virgil's ear, his warm, humid breath inducing a dragged out whine. He blew in Virgil's ear, the other jumping in response. He chuckled, light and airy, “Virgil, stormcloud, baby," he whispered, "I thought I said—” Virgil's ass was caught in a bruising grip, callused fingers dipping into the flesh and squeezing— “to call it something nicer than that.”

Virgil's breath hitched, a beautiful, coquettish thing. "Roman." he pleaded.

Roman hummed, tongue lolling out to lick the side of Virgil's earlobe (careful to avoid piercings), “I'm waiting.”

Virgil sighed shakily, the sound desperate, “P—please, please. . .” he whined and writhed, bucking back before falling short— going limp against the table. In a hushed tone, he tried, “Please make love to me.”

Roman couldn't stop the moan that fell from his mouth. He didn't know what he was expecting Virgil to say— didn't know what he wanted him to say— though what he got was the most obvious answer, he wasn't expecting the selcouth response that he got. 

“Say it again.” Roman entreated more than demanded, rolling his hips— testing the waters as he prepared to drown.

Virgil moaned at the smallest nudge, deep voice going up an octave, “Make love to me, Roman, please _._ " he begged, "Please _, please_ make love to me.”

Roman complied, unable to hold back— he dropped all restraints without warning— thrusting in and out of Virgil unforgivingly. Virgil shrieked and moaned— near screaming as he took Roman's cock in and out of himself. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Ahh! Roman— Roman, oh God, please— please don't stop!” 

"Virgil— ahh, Virgil. You're taking me so well— ngh— you feel so— so good, stormcloud."

Debauched sounds of skin slapping skin— the loud, animalistic sounds they made— the creaking of the table that threatened to give out beneath them— all bounced off the apartment walls simultaneously (a noise complaint waiting to happen). It all went unheeded; the lovers' praise and pleas for more drowning out any of the outside world. 

Warmth and hunger pooled deep within Roman— a burning, carnivorous desire that left him pounding into Virgil with no mercy. Virgil was his, he wasn't going anywhere. 

Oh, how he had wanted Virgil so bad— how he wanted to hold him close at all times, to wake up in the same bed as him on the weekends, to hold his hand, to lay about each others' apartments, clad in their pajamas as they cuddled and drank hot tea. He wanted their playful banter— Virgil's sarcasm and sharp silvertongue. 

And he had it. He had Virgil— no more hiding from feelings or brushing off shared solicitude. They were together at last— Virgil was there to stay.

Growling and groaning into his lover's shoulder, Roman rammed harder and faster into the other, a new found vigor that left Virgil babbling incoherently. 

Roman moved his head to the side, forehead pressed to the table as he brought his face to be nose to nose with Virgil. Tongues meeting in the middle, they kissed frantically— sopping and sloppy and sticky with their saliva. Teeth clacked and lips were bitten purposefully, leaving them red and swollen. A puddle of drool formed on the tabletop, their cheeks and corners of their mouths soaked in each others' spit. Noses bumped with every shove Roman gave into Virgil's pliant body— breathing was already labored, but gasping each others hot, humid breaths and moans was nearly suffocating. 

Not that either let up.

Roman nipped and sucked on his love's lips and tongue; between kisses he outwardly commended Virgil for how perfect he was, a chorus of, "Virgil, my love, you're gorgeous— ngh— _haah_ — so fucking sexy. You're so soft and beautiful— fuck, I could cum just from looking at you." along with how well Virgil took his cock, a symphony of, " _Fuck_ — ahh, just like that, starlight; take my cock just— just like that. You feel so good— taking me like you were made for it— like you were— ah— like you were made for me."

He got choked sobs and more forceful kisses in return.

Virgil only lasted a few more gratifying drags to his prostate before he was clamping down on Roman's cock, "Oh, oh, oh! Fuck, _fuck_ , Romaaaan!" he let out in a perfervid shout, pelvis shoving into the table, "Ohh, _fuck._ "

Virgil’s cum came out in thick spurts, slinging on his thigh and dripping down his leg. Roman didn't let up, Virgil’s overstimulated cries being too sexy to resist. Roman grasped the junction behind Virgil’s knee, hiking up his leg and pounding up into his lover with animalistic fervor. Virgil’s whole body convulsed against him, channel clamping down on Roman like a vise— maw hanging open as he yelled jumbled nonsense, his only coherent words being _fuck_ and _Roman._

Roman's thrusts stuttered before he began pushing through the now-tighter ring with slower, more deliberate force. "Virgil— Virgil, I'm. . .I'm. . ." he groaned, hips stilling against Virgil's rear as he released— filling Virgil up piquantly. 

Roman carefully sat Virgil’s leg down, letting his foot touch the cold tiles before letting go. He then slumped against the body beneath him, resting his head between Virgil's neck and shoulder. 

Laying slouched together on the kitchen table, they waited for their frenetic breathing and heartbeats to calm. In the resting silence, Roman circled his thumb into Virgil’s side, dropping random kisses to his back and nape.

Slowly, Roman pulled out, his soft, sensitive prick dragging an overstimulated whimper from the other man. He sighed as his cock fell limply between his thighs, wet and sated. He rubbed Virgil's tailbone in soothing circles, whispering soft words of reassurance, commending him for being so good. 

Pressing kisses to Virgil's shoulders and neck, he murmured breathlessly into his skin, “Are you okay, stormcloud?” he left a few more kisses to Virgil's flushed, sweaty skin, “Wasn't too rough, was I?” he teased, giving Virgil's thigh a playful pinch. 

Virgil jolted. Huffing a playful scoff, he said, “Sure," his voice was winded, coming out in ragged pants, "if you'd call that rough.”

Roman chuckled, “Well, you weren't complaining,” he said, leaning down so he could look Virgil in the eye.

At the sight of Virgil’s wrecked appearance, Roman’s cock twitched. Virgil's lips were battered and swollen, drool running from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. Tear tracks shined in the dim light, reflecting off of his round, flushed cheeks. 

Roman swallowed, “Are you okay?” he asked.

Virgil pushed himself up, legs swaying and threatening to give out. His hand shot out to the table, steadying himself so he wouldn't fall. “I'm fine.” he said, voice hoarse and scratchy.

Roman gently took him by the waist, guiding him to turn around and face him. He bent down, planting a tender kiss to Virgil's mistreated lips, trailing more pecks up his jaw, “Let me help you back to bed.” he said, giving Virgil's jaw a nip.

“I'm fine.” Virgil said, stubborn as always, “I can manage.”

Roman rolled his eyes; while not voicing an argument, he crouched down, encircling his arms around Virgil's middle.

Virgil eyed the top of his head in confusion, “What are you—” he yelped in surprise— hoisted up and slung over Roman's shoulder, “What the fuck?” 

Roman barked a laugh, shifting Virgil's weight carefully, “I thought you might prefer this to walking.” 

“Didn't think to ask first?” Virgil asked, resting his elbow on Roman's back and propping his chin on the palm of his hand. 

“What," Roman said, beginning his walk back to the bedroom, Virgil's snacks forgotten, "do you want me to put you down?”

Virgil hummed, “I didn't say that.”

Roman laughed, Virgil joining him soon after.

On his way out the kitchen, Roman flipped the light off, encasing the room in darkness. He stepped meticulously down the hall, not wanting to trip while carrying such precious cargo. 

By the time they reached the bedroom, Virgil was a yawning mess, smacking his lips tiredly. 

“Stop that," Roman said before yawning himself, "it's contagious.”

“Don't tell me what to do.”

Roman smiled and pulled back the covers of the bed, laying his love down honorably, pulling the blanket up and over him. 

Virgil didn't put up a fight, but still arched a brow, “You don't want me to wipe me and your jizz off myself before getting in your bed?” he asked.

Roman winced, making a mental note to wash the sheets in the morning, “It's fine,” he said, looking over Virgil's face, "I'll be right back,” he said before heading to the bathroom.

He grabbed a rag out from the cabinet below the sink. Then he ran warm water over it, saturating the soft cloth before making his way back to the bedroom. Virgil was in the middle of discarding Roman's rumpled dress shirt, letting it fall on the carpeted floor. 

Virgil's eyes fell to the rag, “What's that for?”

Roman didn't say anything, flipping on the bedside lamp and kneeling down beside the bed, eye level with Virgil. He reached out, fingers tentatively tracing down Virgil's jaw, stopping when he reached his chin. He held him still, grasped between his thumb and forefinger. Gently, Roman wiped Virgil's face clean of any tears and spit.

Shuddering a sigh, Virgil's eyes fluttered close, giving into Roman's touch with no fight— impressible in Roman's working hands. His eyes only opened when Roman tapped the stud on his lower lip. “Can you take this out for me?” he lulled in a low voice.

Virgil did as asked, shakily removing the piercing and sitting it in Roman's outstretched palm, who sat it on the nightstand.

Roman folded the wet cloth to a clean side and gently rubbed the drying blood away. When there were no traces left he pitched forward, emplacing a chaste kiss right where the hole was. Virgil raked his fingers through his hair and held him in place, slowly dragging his mouth over Roman's, slotting their lips together.

They pulled away with a promise for more, their lips lingering. Roman flipped the lamp off, shrouding them in a blanket of darkness. Crawling over Virgil (who huffed lightly) Roman shimmied under the covers. Once settled, Virgil climbed atop him, arms resting on Roman's pillow. They returned to their kiss, lips mingling and kneading one another with satisfaction.

A few more pecks and Virgil pulled away, "Goodnight, Princey." he yawned, "You're making me chocolate chip pancakes in the morning."

Roman hummed, cuddling Virgil closer when he pillowed his head on Roman's chest. "Goodnight, my stormcloud."

Held tightly in each others’ arms, soft and secure, Roman knew Virgil wasn't going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going through my Google docs when I found this ghfhfhcjv it's like two years old and I forgot I wrote it. this was a part of a much larger work, but this is the only part I think is worth posting
> 
> there's also a second part (some morning sex) that was never finished, but I might do and post with this


End file.
